


Bloodied Flower Petals

by The_Problematic_Blender



Series: "This is going to Hell in a hand basket real fast!" [28]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Fake AH Crew, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Possible Character Death, Sickfic, Unrequited, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Problematic_Blender/pseuds/The_Problematic_Blender
Summary: Matt's sick and he hides it from the others.// aka the worst "sick fic" you'll ever read //





	Bloodied Flower Petals

“How’s the van?” Trevor asked as he entered the garage. Matt looks up from his laptop.

“It’s been worse.” Matt replied before coughing, covering his mouth with his elbow.

“How long do you think it’s going to take to get it back to a hundred percent?” Trevor asks.

“At best, a couple weeks. I need to get the dents out, I need to do touch ups on the paint job, I need to buff out the scratches, the tires and back windows need to be replaced, the rear bumper is completely gone so I have to get my hands on a new one-” Matt’s interrupted by a cough, one that sounds dry and painful. “plus the general maintenance on it. I don’t expect it done for a while, even if I devote all my time to it.”

“Don’t worry about getting it done quickly,” Trevor says. “Especially if you‘re coming down with something.”

“It’s just a cough.” Matt says, tone defensive. “I’m fine.”

“Alright, just take it easy.” Trevor says. “I don’t need you out of commission because you pushed yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.” Matt insists as Trevor leaves, attention returning to his laptop, where he had left it on an order screen for supplies he needed to fix up the van. A coughing fit catches Matt off guard, and he clamps a hand over his mouth as he’s wracked with violent coughs, almost as if he was choking. Matt’s lungs burn and his eyes water as he coughs, gagging into his hand. His throat is raw and his lungs ache by the time the coughing subsides, a faint feeling of lightheadedness joining the other symptoms. Matt pulls his hand away with reluctance, seeing the yellow petals of tulips and daffodils in his cupped palm, covered in saliva and a smattering of blood.

Matt sighs. He’s been coughing up petals all week. Luckily, he hasn’t done so in front of the crew yet, the garage rarely having anyone other than Matt in it. Matt takes the rag he has nearby for when this happened, dropping the bloodied petals into the waste bin under the table and wiping the blood and saliva from his hand. Matt knew why this was happening, but there was nothing he could do about it, so he just places the order and goes to get started on repairing the getaway van.

Matt’s coughing got worse as the week went on, to the point where he was dry heaving up yellow petals when the coughing was at its worst. His chest was constantly hurting, and he felt like he was struggling to catch his breath. The faint taste of copper and earth was always present in the back of his throat now. He’s hacking up more and more petals, the occasional full flower coming up, mangled and bloodied.

Hanahaki disease was a bitch. It filled your lungs with flowers, making you cough and throw up petals, eventually killing you via asphyxiation. Matt knew he was done for when he started coughing up petals, especially when those petals were of flowers that represented unreciprocated love. He accepted his fate, knowing that there was no cure for him, especially not when Hanahaki disease was caused by having unrequited love, and the one he loved was currently in love with another man.

Matt’s touching up on the van’s paint job when he hears the door to the garage opens. “It’s not done yet.” Matt called to whoever entered. “It won’t be for another week.”

“Do you think I care about the bloody van?” A kind, playful voice asks. Matt’s heart drops as he turns to look behind him, seeing Gavin standing there, in an old dark gray hoodie and khaki shorts, a bag of fast food in his hands. The pain in Matt’s chest worsens.

“What are you doing here, Gav?” Matt asks, sounding exasperated as he goes back to touching up the van.

“Treyc’s been worried about you, he wanted to make sure you’re eating something, because you’ve hardly been up to the penthouse.” Gavin answers. It was easy for Matt to avoid everyone, with his apartment being two floors below the penthouse, and the garage rarely being visited by anyone other than himself. “He said you’re sick, and knowing you, you’re probably working too hard on the van.”

“I’m not sick.” Matt replies, leaning back to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Matthew, you sound like you drank gravel.” Gavin points out. It feels like there is a vise squeezing Matt’s lungs, crushing them. “Come, eat.”

“Set it down on the counter, I’ll eat when I’m done.” Matt feels winded just from speaking, god damn.

“No, I want to make sure you eat it.” Gavin says.

“I will, just later.” Matt feels claustrophobic all of a sudden, and there’s not enough air getting into his lungs.

“The soggy van can wait, Matt.”

“Gavin-“ The coughing starts, pain wracking his body. He waits for it to pass, a few violent coughs and it’s usually done, but it doesn’t stop, and Matt’s eyes widen as he realizes it’s going to keep going.

 _Not here,_ Matt thinks. _not in front of Gavin._

Gavin and Trevor started dating a few months ago, which happened to be around when Matt’s coughing started. Matt didn’t mention it to either of them; he couldn’t do that to one of his best friends, especially after seeing how genuinely happy the two made each other. Matt was one hundred percent prepared to die so that his best friend and his crush could be happy together.

But he wasn’t supposed to die in front of his crush.

Matt falls forward, catching himself with his hands as blood finds its way into his dry cough. He’s on his hands and knees with tears in his eyes, trembling with every botched inhale, probably looking pathetic as he tried to clear his lungs so he could breathe again. Adrenaline is crashing through his system- his body’s weak attempt at protecting him from himself -doing nothing but adding to the panic Matt’s already experiencing. He can’t breathe, oh god, he can’t breathe. His lungs burn and his ribs hurt and his vision is starting to go.

Matt is dimly aware that Gavin is next to him, saying something, maybe to Matt, but Matt can’t hear him. A sudden _thwack_ to Matt’s back startles him, and again when it happens a second time, and a third. It takes Matt a few seconds to realize that Gavin’s hitting him, trying to help him get rid of whatever is making him cough. Gavin is somewhat successful in his efforts, as the fourth time Gavin hits him, Matt coughs up yellow flower petals and blood, but Matt’s coughing doesn’t falter.

That’s the last thing Matt remembers before losing consciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment please! I really appreciate it.
> 
> I'm taking requests too, since I am having trouble coming up with ideas that can be made into proper k+ wc fics.


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